


Enemies Closer

by ficonfire



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Biting, Enemy Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Roughness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 20:25:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1524422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficonfire/pseuds/ficonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Moriarty is a dangerous man. A dangerous man who was sitting in Sherlock’s chair, acting like he clearly belonged there.</p><p>“Welcome home, honey. I made you tea.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enemies Closer

Sherlock would never admit that he felt himself being trapped in the spider’s web more than anyone else. He would never admit that he thought he understood Jim Moriarty more than he understood most other humans. He would never admit that Moriarty was one of the few people who managed to surprise him.

But now that he knew Moriarty had a beating heart, that his brains hadn't been blown to pretty bits across a rooftop, Sherlock wouldn’t stop until he had won. The game was on again.

Jim Moriarty is a dangerous man. A dangerous man who was sitting in Sherlock’s chair, acting like he clearly belonged there.

“Welcome home, honey. I made you tea.”

Sherlock paused in the doorway, his face an unreadable slate, his tension invisible and pushed to the back of his mind. Focus on Moriarty. Sherlock smirked. “I was worried I’d have to find you. But you simply couldn't wait, could you?”

“Well, I was so sure you missed me. Two years is such a long time, isn't it? So much...change.”

Moriarty’s eyes drifted to the space once occupied by John’s chair. John’s lack of things. He read the room, a broad smile finding itself lazily on his face. “Don’t you just hate change?”

Sherlock stiffened. He hoped it was unnoticeable, but Moriarty was no doubt reading his every little movement. “Without change,” Sherlock said, “I would be bored.” He moved to the couch to sit down, where a warm tea was waiting on the stand.

The static in the room could almost be seen. Two similar yet opposing minds, sizing one another up, deciding their next moves. Talking to Jim Moriarty was almost exactly like playing a very complex game of chess. The difference being that if Sherlock made a wrong move, he could easily end up dead.

“How is my little virgin without dear John taking care of him? Really made the poor thing upset, didn't it, thinking you dead for two years? Pets are so funny like that. And they move on so easily too.” Sharp teeth, a wicked grin. Sherlock stared ahead, his face blank. He took a sip of tea. “Is there a reason for your visit?” he asked Jim, a casual tone to his voice.

Moriarty grinned. “I can’t come to see how old friends are doing? I missed you so dearly, Sherlock. You have no idea. The world is an absolute bore without someone to play with. Being dead for two years…” Moriarty paused, his face contorting. Sherlock’s head barely avoided the teacup, hearing it shatter against the wall behind him. “IT’S ALL SO BORING!”

His eyes met with Moriarty’s. “I see. You came to break my cups.”

Moriarty let a highly-pitched giggle slip from his lips. He responded quickly, his words beginning to become muddled. “You’re not funny, you know. You sit there and you think and you plan and you pretend not to care. But , Sherlock, oh Sherlock. I know you care. I know you more than you know yourself.” Sherlock stiffened, ready for Moriarty to launch at him. To pull a gun. To do something drastic. “I know you so very well. We’re so alike. You say you don’t have a heart. No, no you have one. You have one and it’s broken. How’s John, Sherlock? How’s...Mary?”

Sherlock stared at him, his mind whirring. How much did Moriarty know? About John? And Mary?

“You’re a mess, aren't you? But it will be okay, Sherlock. I’ll break John. I’ll break John and then you’ll be broken too. Won’t that be pretty? They have a baby on the way, don’t they? How sad it would be if-”

Sherlock was no longer waiting for Moriarty to lunge at him. Now he was lunging at Moriarty, the weight of the two of them toppling Sherlock’s chair over backwards. They rolled, Moriarty finding the upper hand, pinning Sherlock hard to the floor at his wrists.

Moriarty practically cackled. He found the whole thing so god-damn funny.

“Sherlock! So very emotional, aren't we?!” Moriarty lowered himself, his lips near Sherlock’s ear, his breath tickling Sherlock’s neck. “I’m going to take out your heart and ruin it. I’m going to make you feel every little piece of it shattering. I want you utterly _broken_.”

Sherlock squirmed. He tried to headbutt Moriarty. Kick him. Anything to get the upper hand again.

Moriarty straightened his arms, giving the squirming Sherlock one more good look before moving down to kiss him roughly.

Sherlock gasped, his open mouth becoming a new location for Moriarty’s tongue to explore. Sherlock stopped his struggle, the shock of the kiss putting his brain on pause. He felt his tongue moving against Moriarty’s, felt them in their own struggle for dominance. He observed his heart beating faster, his skin tingling with a new-found arousal.

The room seemed to be spinning.

Moriarty left the kiss to suck and nibble down Sherlock’s neck, and Sherlock found himself breathing in deeply, unable to get enough air in his lungs. And then Moriarty bit down. Hard. Sherlock bucked up, surprising himself as a flash of pain and pleasure surged through him. Moriarty groaned at Sherlock’s movement, the two feeling their flesh separated by mere clothing.

And then Sherlock found that in his movement, Moriarty had conveniently forgotten to keep his hands on Sherlock’s wrists. He took the opportunity to push Moriarty hard, rolling himself over in the process until Moriarty was the one pinned. “Enough.” Sherlock released Moriarty and stood up in one swift motion, righting his scarf and collar, trying to calm his heart.

Moriarty backed away, gasping for air near the couch, his legs sprawled out on the floor. He grinned at Sherlock.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sherlock stood in front of his mirror, staring at the impression left near his right shoulder by Moriarty’s teeth. He saw the red and sensitive skin in the shape of the man’s bite and thought of Moriarty’s parting words before he left the flat, probably eager to cause Sherlock more trouble in the future.

_I have so much fun planned for you. You know what they say, Sherlock. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> Happened because of a tumblr ask.


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